


The Calling

by stardropdream



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-23
Updated: 2013-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-03 07:52:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/695972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardropdream/pseuds/stardropdream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And he does not apologize for loving her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Calling

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ May 28, 2010.

When they meet again, she is afraid to touch. She wears the gloves he made for her, wears her hair long and covering her back, feels as if with every step she takes away she is losing a bit of herself. She has the small moments of revelation, the small moments of justification or dismissal or lingering thoughts—  
  
But still she cannot touch. When she dares to, her arms, shaking, wrap around his waist. She hesitates, afraid to touch her palms to his stomach, her forehead pressed against his shoulder blade. Sometimes, he tries to move so that he can hug her in turn, but as much as she fears having her hands on him, she fears more his hands finding her back.   
  
She tightens her hold, clenches her eyes shut, and he does not press the subject. There are so many things left unsaid, so many things she wishes she could say. Her fingers curl defensively into themselves, and when she swallows, it is hard to breathe around the lump in her throat, unchanging words that never, ever move.   
  
“I’m sorry,” she says. She whispers, “I love you.”  
  
“I love you, too,” he always replies, no wavering or uncertainty in his voice. And he does not apologize for loving her, even though she thinks that he should. Or that she should apologize, over and over, until he believes that it is a crime, until he realizes that she is _sorry._   
  
But she just pulls her hands away, lets them hang by her side. She keeps her eyes shut, forehead pressed against his back, until she feels his body shift, accommodating the feel and warmth she gives him—and she pulls away, afraid of lingering, afraid of being the reason he always looks tired, and at the same time feeling selfish for thinking she could have any kind of profound effect on him.  
  
So she smiles, and when night comes, she leaves. For another year away.


End file.
